


we were not lost from the start

by ClownPatrol



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: (its wilbur), Ambiguous/Open Ending, Anger, Angst, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Delusions, Dialogue Heavy, Gen, Hallucinations, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Insane Niki | Nihachu, Mentioned TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Mirrors, Night Terrors, Nightmares, Niki | Nihachu Needs a Hug, Niki | Nihachu-centric, Regret, Villain Niki | Nihachu, thinking about c!niki again..., this is all sadness :(
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 22:20:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29497179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClownPatrol/pseuds/ClownPatrol
Summary: I'm going insane, Niki thinks as she touches the mirror in front of her. The glass is cool against her skin, but she's beginning to think her fingers are colder.Wilbur leans against her bedpost in the reflection behind her. He's wearing the same cape that's draped across her shoulders, and his hair is a mess. He looks so unbothered.(or: niki and wilbur talk and it's not fun for anyone involved)
Relationships: Niki | Nihachu & Wilbur Soot
Comments: 1
Kudos: 41





	we were not lost from the start

**Author's Note:**

> was thinking about niki's stream where she said her character has frequent night terrors, and how since wilbur isn't around she blames tommy for everything, and i started spiraling

_I'm going insane_ , Niki thinks as she touches the mirror in front of her. The glass is cool against her skin, but she's beginning to think her fingers are colder.

Wilbur leans against her bedpost in the reflection behind her. He's wearing the same cape that's draped across her shoulders, and his hair is a mess. He looks so unbothered.

His presence doesn't scare her, really, but she's not pleased about the sudden appearance. Something deep in her mind whispers that he's not real, a single point of clarity in the swirling storm of her thoughts. It tells her that, if she were to turn around, she would be alone, staring at her empty room miserably and looking like a fool.

She pays that voice no time to truly carry on, and soon enough that thought is lost in the cacophonous screaming. Niki narrows her eyes as Wilbur picks at his nails in boredom.

"What do you want," she bites out. Wilbur glances up at her and smiles, his face pulling that charming expression she once loved. Now, though, it makes her sick to her stomach, tainted with memories of a ravine and buttons and explosions and a sword slicked with blood as it tore through flesh.

"What makes you think I want something?" He looks back down at his nails, pushing back one of his cuticles. "Can't I just come to visit my dear friend every once in a while?"

"No, you can't." Niki snaps back, her reflection in the mirror contorting her expression to look warped. Her mouth, pulled into a scowl, looks too wide, her teeth sharper than normal. She looks animalistic, and she finds that she doesn't mind.

Wilbur chuckles humorlessly. "Ouch. That hurts, you know."

"Good."

"You're feisty today. That's fun." He clicks his tongue in a clearly mocking manner, almost tutting at Niki like she's a child. It only serves to ignite the embers of rage that have been simmering in her chest.

"Ha ha, very funny." And her words are laced with poison, deadly and full of vitriol. Wilbur's smile grows.

"Okay, okay, all pleasantries aside," With all the grace of a ballerina, Wilbur twirls on his toe, turning to sit on her bed instead of standing behind her. Niki's hands, braced on the edge of her dresser, turn white as her fingers curl. "I heard you tried to kill Tommy."

"And? What if I did?" The heat from the nuke had left her feeling nauseas, overwhelmed with a sickness that started in her core and pushed her to dying. Surely, _surely_ there was a way to remedy her mistake, a way to kill the boy that had destroyed everything Niki had ever loved, but—sometimes things don't go to plan, and sometimes people arrive five seconds too late.

So yeah, she'd _tried_. Tried isn't good enough, though.

As if dismissing her sharp words, Wilbur waves his hands, primly tucking one of his ankles behind the other as he sits. His beanie isn't sitting right on his head and it takes everything in Niki not to turn around to fix it.

"Nothing, I was just curious. Tommy always has had a penchant for staying alive, even with the world stacked against him."

"You sound proud." It's an observation more than anything. The words themselves aren't in any way harsh, but her tone sheds light on her own ugly emotions, the resentment and hatred that curls in her gut like a disease. She wishes she weren't so hellbent on destruction, but until her work is done and nothing remains of Tommyinnit, she won't have peace.

"Hm," Wilbur hums, tilting his head to the side innocently. He's got a nonchalant smile on his face, unbothered. "Perhaps. He's quite resilient for a child. It's almost impressive."

"A child," Niki scoffs back. Wilbur raises a single eyebrow, almost begging her to go on. She rolls her eyes. "He's barely three years younger than me and been through more wars than I can count. He's not a _child_ , he can deal with his own shit just like everyone else in this terrible place."

"Ah, but he's still just sixteen. That makes him a kid. Or did you forget that?"

"I didn't _forget_ , it just doesn't _matter_. So what if he's sixteen? He's still a teenager, just like me and Jack. He should be able to own up to his mistakes like the rest of us." She tries to keep her voice even and fails pretty miserably. It just—it's not fair that he's trying to pull the child card on her, as if it gives his argument any more bearing—if it really is an argument at all.

Tommy isn't a _child_ , he's mature enough to fucking blow up the Community House and start not one, but two wars. He should be held accountable just like everyone else. They can't just excuse everything he's done under the impression of 'oh, he's a child, he didn't know what he was doing and he'll surely learn from this.' That's just not the way the world works, that's not how it's _ever_ worked.

Why should they suddenly lessen the punishment for fucking up when it comes to Tommy, when they weren't nearly as forgiving to Niki and Jack and Fundy, who were just kids once too? What's so special about Tommy? Why does Wilbur even _care_?

"Sure, sure." Wilbur waves his hand and Niki can see how dirty his fingers are, and when she glances at his face, for a single moment it's covered in blood and ash. But as soon as the vision comes it disappears, and Wilbur's just staring at her, a nonchalant smile on his face, like he hasn't a single care in the world. It pisses her off. "Just trying to give you some food for thought."

"And what exactly am I supposed to think about? I know what I believe and I don't think a visit from someone who's supposed to be dead will do much to sway my thoughts."

"Of course not. That just means you're strong in your beliefs, which is respectable enough." Wilbur sniffles and his smile is _so fucking condescending_ and Niki wants very suddenly and desperately to scream.

"You're no better than me, you know. You think you're so high and mighty, just because you decided to beg your dad to kill you before you had to face the consequences of your actions," she retorts. The wood beneath her fingers is hard but she thinks if she were to attempt to snap it in half it wouldn't be difficult.

"Ah, but is that not a show of strength? To die by your own hand before giving in to those who wish to destroy you?"

"Don't act like blowing up L'manburg was some sort of _favor_."

Wilbur points at her with a grin. "You understand, then."

And if the entire conversation has been throwing sticks into the fire of her rage, that single comment alone douses her in gasoline. Niki _explodes_ , and between that moment and the next her fist has slammed into the mirror, cracks spiderwebbing away from the point of contact.

"You didn't fucking save anyone by blowing it up, you know! All you did was cause everyone that much more pain and grief!" she shouts at her reflection. Wilbur shrugs, like he couldn't care less.

"L'manburg was never meant to prosper, Niki. It was a pipe dream that came true, an unfinished idea brought to life before it was ready. L'manburg was destined to fall, eventually, and isn't it a little poetic that it's founder was the one to bring it's end?" He stands again, restless, always moving, and begins to pace as he speaks. Niki bites her tongue and it takes barely a second for blood to spill into her mouth.

"It wasn't your choice to make anymore. You may have been the founder but you were not the only citizen. Do you truly believe it was a good idea to make everyone homeless? To taint everyone's memory of you, every good thing you've ever done, with such an irredeemable act?" She feels desperate, and it's so useless that's it's almost embarrassing.

God, she's so tired. Why is she even arguing with him? It's not like this is going to bring her any closure. They've done this song and dance more times than she can remember, and for some reason, the script never changes. She yells, he smiles, they fight and he makes a fool out of her time and time again.

Niki just wants to sleep but she knows she can't. If she looks away from the mirror, he won't be there anymore, and despite everything she hates about him she can't stand the thought of him disappearing again. So Niki grits her teeth and watches blood drip from her knuckles still resting in the epicenter of the cracks.

"It was for the best you know. The country L'manburg once was had already died; it died the moment Schlatt took control. There was no coming back, no way to fix what had been broken. You were all believing in false hope and I simply put it all to rest." He waves his hand as he speaks, walking back and forth, never even sparing her a glance. Niki seethes, forcing herself to look down at the grain of her dresser. It doesn't calm her like she'd hoped.

"False hope? Wilbur, the reason L'manburg fucking destroyed itself was because of what you did! If you had just _let them win_ –" she stops herself short and takes a deep breath. There's no point. There's no point and she's tired. "Just. It doesn't matter anymore."

Wilbur purses his lips. "Wrong."

Her head whips up to look at him. "Wrong?"

"I actually think it matters quite a lot to talk about this, given what your current goal is." He clicks his tongue. "My ideologies were my own downfall in the end, self inflicted and carried out, as is the fate of most people in this world." He turns his head and they lock eyes, his gaze holding her in place as he speaks. "What makes you think you're any different?"

There's nothing she can say in rebuttal, no words in her own defense, because he's _right_. And she knows this, has known this since the moment she brought her flint and steel down on the symbol of prosperity and resilience. She's always known, maybe, deep down, that one day she'd be the one to put the final nail in her own coffin. It's unfortunate that the end of plenty of people here are at their own hand.

It makes for a good enough story, though, and she supposes that fate loves a good thriller.

Finally, she pulls her first away from the mirror and assesses the damage. There's glass embedded in her skin and it's covered in blood. Wilbur watches, silently, looking near satisfied with the outcome of the conversation. She thinks idly that she should be feeling way more pain than she does, and when she looks back up, the cracks in the mirror only serve to distort both of them.

"I'm not going to stop until he's dead, you know," she says, quiet, barely meeting his eyes. Wilbur just shrugs.

"I know. Just remember that, when you die because of it, it's nobody's fault but your own."

"I still hate you."

"You never stopped. It's alright," Wilbur smiles and raises his hands in a ' _what can you do_ ' sort of way. "I'd rather you direct your shit at me than someone who doesn't deserve it."

Niki scowls but there's nothing to it. "Like Tubbo?"

"Like Tommy," Wilbur laughs, and it echoes in her head so deafeningly loud that she nearly claps her hands to her ears. She swings around, just to yell at him to stop, but he's not there.

He's never there.

She looks around, half-delirious, and faintly registers that he room is different. There's no dresser with a vanity—in it's place is a simple wooden desk. She's not standing anymore, she's sitting on her bed, and the sheets are ripped up around her. Her hands are coated in blood and all at once they explode with pain, as well as something in her back.

She sighs and lets her eyes fall shut again. She's so fucking tired.

With a groan, Niki forces herself to rise, if only to patch herself up and do something about the pain. Her night terrors seem to be getting more violent, if the fact that there's blood this time is any indication. There has to be something she can do to make them stop.

Sluggishly, she unlocks the iron bars she'd put in her room to keep herself safe at night. Maybe she should invest in some health potions or something.

Distantly, she thinks she should talk to someone about seeing Wilbur every night in her sleep. About how he mocks her, how he argues, how it's not him and how she desperately wishes it was. The thought is gone before it can fully register, and she goes about her day, pushing herself to stay awake despite her exhaustion.

She has so much work to get done.

**Author's Note:**

> c!niki i care you...
> 
> this is so all over the place and also unedited but take it because i can't stand looking at it anymore
> 
> [tumblr](https://tnt-go-boom.tumblr.com/) | [twitter](https://mobile.twitter.com/tntgoboom)


End file.
